


Chasing the Moon

by SuddenlySullen



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Animal Traits, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Praise Kink, Top Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25441363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlySullen/pseuds/SuddenlySullen
Summary: "Geralt," Jaskier's voice shakes. "I think you've been bitten by a werewolf. I know you're in there, just please, fight it and don't kill me before sunrise. It will be over at sunrise, right? Then we can find a healer or the scary magic lady and we'll fix this, just stay with me and don't kill me."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 338
Collections: The Witcher Alternate Universes





	Chasing the Moon

Geralt shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the tavern. He wants nothing more than to get out where he can relax and release his ears at the very least. The pins keeping them in place under his hair hurt even more than trapping his tail inside of his trousers. 

"Well, fancy meeting someone like you in a place like this," a familiar voice says. 

Jaskier slides easily into the seat next to Geralt, with no regard for personal space or proper manners. Geralt looks up from his mug, but barely. 

"Funny, I was just leaving," Geralt grumbles.

"Can I interest you in my services as a travel companion on this fine afternoon?" Jaskier doesn't move from where he's sitting. 

Geralt could move the bard. He's plenty strong enough. He doesn't particularly want the attention or the hassle, though. He lets out a low sigh. 

"Are you going to sit there until I say yes?" He asks. 

Jaskier smirks a bit before answering. "I was mostly expecting to be tossed from the bench and to have to follow you out of town against your will."

"Come on then," Geralt says and pushes gently at the bard's shoulder. 

They make good time out of town. Geralt almost catches himself paying the bard a compliment in his thoughts about how well he walks these days. 

"Word of a beast that sounds like a graveir the next town over. Lord put a price on its head," Geralt finally says. "No you can't watch," he adds, answering the question he knows Jaskier wants to ask. 

"Oh, but Geralt I'll be quiet as a house mouse," Jaskier whines, putting on a very convincing pout. "At least tell me what they look like."

"Like a corpse that's been sitting in the lake for two weeks. Smell about as bad too," Geralt growls. 

"Well, that's about ten more words than I usually get so I'll take it," Jaskier says and starts humming brightly. 

They make camp just outside of town. Closer than Geralt would usually like to be, but also close enough that he won't worry about monsters or wolves stumbling upon Jaskier while he's out dealing with the graveir. 

"Stay. Put." He shoots Jaskier a warning look before heading off in the direction of the cemetery.

Jaskier crosses his heart and watches Geralt disappear into the trees. He plucks lightly at the strings of his lute, singing half-verses while he tries to compose. 

The graveir is large. One of the largest Geralt has ever seen. By the looks of things, the local gravedigger decided to stop burying the bodies and has just been dumping them at the entrance for the graveir to feast on. Geralt pulls a potion from his pouch and downs it, but the graveir is fast and manages to send him skidding across the ground. His trousers catch on a sharp rock, making him grunt in pain when it gouges down his leg. 

He's back on his feet quickly to dodge the bite aimed at his neck. Too large for its own good, the graveir stumbles and leaves an opening. Geralt takes it, beheading the beast in one broad sweep of his sword. He mumbles a quick igni and sets the corpse ablaze, dragging the head with him back towards camp. 

Jaskier hears something barreling through the brush. He looks to roach, who doesn't seem worried, and hopes that she knows something he doesn't. When Geralt stumbles into the light of the fire he lets out a short-lived sigh of relief. 

"Fuck, Geralt," he laughs. "I thought you were the monster." 

When he gets a good look at Geralt, though, he stands up and backs away slightly. It twinges at something in Geralt's chest when Jaskier moves away, even though he doesn't quite smell of fear. 

"Geralt," Jaskier's voice shakes. "I think you've been bitten by a werewolf. I know you're in there, just please, fight it and don't kill me before sunrise. It will be over at sunrise, right? Then we can find a healer or the scary magic lady and we'll fix this, just stay with me and don't kill me."

"Fuck," Geralt growls. He looks over his own shoulder at the place where his tail has been freed from the binds of his trousers. "Jaskier," he struggles to speak, the sound of his own voice grating on his oversensitive ears. "Not a werewolf."

"Oh, thank Melitele." Jaskier moves in close again and puts a hand on Geralt's shoulder. "What's happened? Have you been cursed?"

Geralt shakes his head, unable to bring himself to speak any more. He falls to his knees in front of Jaskier, unable to stand the pain of standing on his gouged leg any more. 

"Oh my- Geralt you're bleeding!" Jaskier squeaks. "Lie down, come here."

Jaskier pulls his own bedroll over for Geralt to fall onto because it's closest and he doesn't dare move away for long enough to find Geralt's. Geralt drops onto his stomach almost immediately, groaning into the fabric. 

"Black one for…. Giant painful looking injuries, right?" Jaskier asks, already looking through Geralt's pack. 

When Geralt doesn't answer, Jaskier decides that anything is better than nothing and uncorks one of the bottles full of black liquid. He drips it along the path of the wound, wincing when Geralt lets out what he can only think of as a howl. The skin sizzles, bubbles, then looks like it starts to knit itself back together while he watches. It turns his stomach a bit, so he moves to sit at Geralt's head, combing the sticks and leaves from his hair with his fingers. 

Jaskier sings softly. He sings the songs about Geralt, mostly. His fingers move on their own through Geralt's hair on his lap, working out old tangles. When he tugs on an especially buried stick, he's surprised to find that it's a hairpin. He smiles slightly, imagining Geralt pinning his hair up before a fight. He yelps in surprise and drops it when a fluffy white ear pricks up from underneath Geralt's hair. With trembling fingers, he strokes it down to the base, feeling the spot where it meets Geralt's skull. Geralt makes a soft noise, low in his throat, when Jaskier touches his ear. Running his fingers along the other side of Geralt's scalp, Jaskier finds the second pin easily. He pulls it free and watches Geralt's other ear spring up from beneath his hair. 

Slowly, Geralt's breathing evens out. He seems to be more asleep than unconscious, so Jaskier lets himself relax against the tree at his back. His fingers move idly in circles over Geralt's ears as he starts to drift off. 

Geralt wakes throughout the night to various sounds of the wilderness and pains in his body as he heals. Each time, he stops breathing for several of his own heartbeats before remembering that it's Jaskier's lap his head is cradled in. Before falling back asleep, he turns his face in to breathe in more of Jaskier's scent. He smells like warm bread and daffodils and not at all the pungent stink of fear that nearly always follows humans in his presence.

The sun rises too soon and Jaskier groans against the light. He feels Geralt shift slightly in his lap and remembers that his hands are still tangled up in his hair. He resumes the soft motions of his fingers on Geralt's ears, savoring the feeling of the silky fur. When Geralt makes a soft whining sound, Jaskier finally opens his eyes to make sure the noise isn't one of pain. Geralt has moved onto his uninjured side at some point during the night and has one hand fisted in the bedroll. 

"Can you hear me, Geralt darling?" Jaskier asks quietly. 

Geralt nods under his hands. He doesn't trust his voice not to break if he tries to answer. He's not sure anyone has ever put their hands on his ears in all his years. He knows if anyone had it would not have been with the kind of gentle touch that Jaskier is giving him. His brothers have spoken more than once of being run out of brothels for being Witchers alone. He's never dared set foot in one with his own additional disfigurements. Yet here is Jaskier holding him through the night and so gentle that Geralt worries he might cry.

Jaskier lets out a sigh of relief. "You scared me, coming back like that."

"You weren't scared," Geralt mumbles and hopes Jaskier doesn't pick up on the shaking in his voice. 

"Not of you. Never of you," Jaskier assures him, petting him more. "Scared I might lose you. What happened last night? Where did… all this come from?" 

Geralt sighs. He tries not to lean into the touch, but can't quite pull away. He knew the questions would come eventually. "Always been there." 

"How have I never seen?" 

"Never looked hard enough," Geralt smirks at his own cleverness. 

Jaskier gasps in mock offense. "I've looked at you plenty, I assure you. Did it… The pins- doesn't it hurt?" 

"Sometimes," Geralt answers and immediately doesn't know what possessed him to be honest. He prepares himself for an additional onslaught of questions. 

"I'm sorry," is all Jaskier manages.

He's reluctant to let go when Geralt moves to sit up, but lets his hands fall away anyway. Geralt feels himself shudder when Jaskier's hands do finally stop making contact with him. He wants, all the way down to his bones, to stay here with Jaskier until the pins and needles feeling all over his body fades, but he's a Witcher and Witchers don't want or feel or need, so he pulls away and finds a pair of trousers that haven't been split straight down the ass so that he can go collect his payment from the local Lord. 

"I can stitch those up when we make camp next," Jaskier tells him, motioning to the trousers. 

Geralt shrugs. "Probably not worth the trouble." 

"No trouble," Jaskier assures him. "I stitch my own fairly often and it helps to have something for my hands to do while you're off Witcher-ing without me." 

"Isn't that what the lute is for?" Geralt teases. The bones in his tail crack and protest at being forced back against his body, but he ignores them and hopes that Jaskier's human ears can't hear. 

"Hard to play in the woods at night. Cold fingers. Dark scary treeline. Possible robbers. Hungry wolves. You know how it is," Jaskier waves a hand dismissively.

It occurs to Geralt for possibly the first time that Jaskier is actually scared to be out at night, even though he's never smelt of fear. It takes his brain probably too long to process that the reason for that has to be that Jaskier feels safer when he's nearby. Even when he thought that Geralt was bitten by a werewolf or cursed, Jaskier trusted that he was safer with Geralt than without him. 

The walk back to the Lord's castle is longer than a full day. On his own, Geralt might simply keep moving through the night and he knows that if he didn't stop, Jaskier would follow until his legs couldn't hold him anymore. As much as he'll never admit it out loud, he respects the bard for it. 

When Geralt finally leads them off the road to a well-hidden stream, it's well after dark. Jaskier's legs have progressed past burning into simple numbness and he dreads what will happen when he finally gets feeling back in them. He fumbles to unpack his bedroll through the exhausted haze in his eyes. He hardly notices when Geralt stalks off into the brush again, already closing his eyes. 

There are plenty of hares around and it only takes Geralt a short while to catch two to roast for their dinner. He's surprised to find Jaskier already asleep when he returns to camp. He almost lets the bard sleep, but the gurgling in Jaskier's stomach starts to worry him, so when the hares are cooked Geralt nudges lightly at his shoulder with his boot. Jaskier startles awake, but relaxes when he sees Geralt's face. 

"Thanks," Jaskier mumbles when Geralt sticks a leg into his hand. 

They eat quietly and Geralt starts to worry that he's finally let Jaskier push himself too far. Crickets chirp nearby and he can even hear the sound of a distant wagon still making their way down the road. 

"You can take them out," Jaskier finally says with a slow yawn. When Geralt gives him a confused look, he continues. "The pins, I mean. And whatever it is you've done with your trousers." 

"Hm," Geralt grunts, considering. He wonders if Jaskier might touch him again if he pulls the pins loose. 

Jaskier yawns again and rubs at his eyes. "C'mere," he says, motioning towards his own bedroll as he stumbles towards it. 

Geralt goes, yanking the pins free from his hair hard enough that he thinks he might have torn some out. His ears prick up immediately and he notices how much more he can hear without them pinned down. He kneels next to Jaskier's head, unsure what the bard actually wanted from him. 

Jaskier reaches forward and grabs at the first part of Geralt he can reach. It happens to be his forearm. He tugs Geralt forward and grumbles until he lies down with his head on Jaskier's chest. When Geralt sneaks a glance at Jaskier's face, his eyes are already closed. The bard's gentle hands still find their way right to the fur of his ears, though. Even in his sleep, Jaskier rubs and lightly scratches Geralt's ears. 

Geralt doesn't sleep. Instead, he closes his eyes and lets himself feel Jaskier's hands on him. His own hands grip Jaskier's tunic tight, trying to keep himself from trembling any more than he knows he already is. His tail aches where it's straining to move inside his trousers. He doesn't dare try to release it, though. Even this close to the main road there are dangers and he doesn't want to die with his pants off. 

The sound of birds cawing wakes Jaskier earlier than he'd ever like to be woken. He minds just the slightest bit less when he realizes that Geralt's head is still resting on his chest. 

"Morning," Jaskier says quietly. 

"Hm," Geralt answers. 

"How's the leg, love?" Jaskier keeps petting at Geralt's hair, hoping he won't pull away too quickly. 

"Fine," Geralt nearly growls. 

"It's just that you're shaking," Jaskier explains. "I think that might be a sign of infection and we should maybe find a healer for that, yeah?" 

Geralt feels his muscles stiffen. He pulls himself away from Jaskier's kind hands. "Not infected." 

"You're sure?" Jaskier asks again because he's worried. He sits up to get a good look at Geralt's face. 

"Hm," Geralt replies and stands up to pack his own unused bedroll and stamp out what's left of the fire. He slides the pins back into his hair, making sure his ears are fully tucked away before strapping Roach's saddle on. 

Jaskier stands and stretches before packing his things. He watches Geralt move out of the corner of his eye, looking for any sign that his leg hasn't really healed. He doesn't find one, though. Geralt moves with the same intimidating grace that he always does. For the life of him, Jaskier can't even remember which leg was the injured one. 

"Up," Geralt says when they get back to the road, motioning to Roach. 

"I can't possibly look that pathetic," Jaskier balks. 

Geralt smiles. "No more than usual, bard." 

Jaskier's jaw drops open, but before he can find the words, Geralt is lifting him by the waist (in a way that is not at all sexy, thank you very much) into Roach's saddle. Geralt heaves himself up easily and settles into the saddle in front of Jaskier. 

"Hold on," Geralt warns. 

Almost too fast for Jaskier to react, Geralt is kicking Roach into a canter. His hands fly to wrap around Geralt's waist before he falls off. Roach moves as if she doesn't even notice Jaskier's weight on her back. Geralt smiles, letting himself enjoy having Jaskier cling so tightly to him. As they ride, Jaskier starts to relax into the movement and rests his cheek and chest fully against Geralt's back. It's more than Geralt had hoped for when he asked Jaskier to ride with him. He can feel the swell of Jaskier's chest with every breath he takes and can hear the soft drumming of his heartbeat. 

They make quick time back to the Lord's castle. He very nearly doesn't pay Geralt for dispatching their Graveir. Geralt is fully prepared to leave and accept that he's worked without pay. It isn't the first time and certainly won't be the last. Jaskier, though, can't stand to watch it happen. With fire in his eyes, he assures the Lord that if they leave without Geralt's promised pay then every noble on the continent will hear about his shriveled dick and empty coffers. They're sent on their way with a bit more than promised and some very sincere apologies. 

"You don't have to," Geralt starts to say. 

Jaskier shoots him a glare. "Someone should." 

Geralt shrugs. "It happens." 

"It shouldn't," Jaskier snarls. 

Later, when they've put the Lord's castle far behind them and are asking for their room at the inn, Geralt watches the way that Jaskier puts himself between Geralt and the rest of the world. He gives the innkeeper a bright smile and a few sweet words and suddenly there is a room available for them. 

"Thank you, Jaskier," Geralt says quietly when the door has shut behind them. 

Jaskier's brows pinch together in annoyance before his face softens and he holds a hand out to Geralt. "Come here, you. Let's get the two-day-old corpse smell out of your hair." 

The bath water is lukewarm, but Geralt presses his palm to the side of the metal tub and heats it to nearly scalding immediately. It makes Jaskier smile to see Geralt, who supposedly isn't able to want or feel anything, use the magic that was forced upon him to do something just because he wants to and it feels good. 

"This okay?" Jaskier asks, tipping the open bottle of his own chamomile oil for Geralt to smell. 

"Mhm," Geralt answers, not even turning his face towards the jar. 

Jaskier drops some of the oil into the water and it does a better job than expected at covering up the graveir stench. He finds the pins in Geralt's hair easily, freeing his ears and massaging them from root to tip. It makes Geralt groan and arch into the touch. The water ripples where his tail is twitching underneath it. He's almost embarrassed by his reactions to a little touching until Jaskier starts working shampoo into his hair. By the time Jaskier picks up a pitcher to rinse his hair, Geralt is almost panting and can feel the slight trembling in all of his limbs. 

"That's it," Jaskier practically purrs. "Now you just smell like me." 

Geralt cracks his eyes open, considering some sort of retort, but finds that he actually likes the idea of sharing Jaskier's scent. 

When the water starts to cool, Jaskier finally strips himself of his own clothing. Geralt watches, enthralled, as he reveals the smooth planes of unmarked skin. Everything about Jaskier's body reminds Geralt of how young and soft and small he is and how he still runs headfirst towards monsters anyway because he feels safe with Geralt. He knows it's coming, but Geralt still startles when Jaskier is actually climbing into the tub with him and settling between his legs. 

The water is still a bit warmer than Jaskier would usually take it, but Geralt's skin is cool against his back, so he lets himself relax back into him even more. One of his hands finds its way to Geralt's thigh and strokes up and down the length of it. 

Geralt tries to think about anything other than the feeling of Jaskier's fingers on his thigh. He uses the pitcher Jaskier left next to the tub to wet the bard's hair and at least rinse some of the dirt from their travels out of it. Jaskier doesn't complain, only hides his eyes in the side of Geralt's neck - something that Geralt is more than willing to endure. 

"You're too good," Jaskier mumbles. "We don't deserve you." 

"Hmm," Geralt hums into his hair. 

"You are," Jaskier repeats. "You really are so good." 

There's no hiding the way his tail jerks at Jaskier's praise. Not when his hand is resting on the outside of Geralt's thigh and the offending tail brushes against his knuckles. For once, Jaskier leaves it alone though. Either too distracted by Geralt's hands resting over his stomach or deciding to have pity. 

"I should go," Jaskier sighs. "I promised a performance." 

"Hmm," Geralt hums, keeping his hands around Jaskier's torso. 

Jaskier bumps his nose softly into the side of Geralt's neck. "Not to worry. I'll be back before you even miss me." 

Geralt doesn't want to, but he lets Jaskier go. His fingers drag along his slender hips as he's climbing out of the tub and Geralt suddenly finds a reason to be grateful that Jaskier is going when he realizes that his cock is half hardened under the water. 

As always, Jaskier puts everything he has into his performance. He sings about Geralt, mostly. Those seem to be the only songs people want to hear anymore, especially when they happen to be traveling together. Geralt can hear Jaskier's voice and the sound of his lute through the floorboards. He relaxes in the water and lets himself listen to the songs. Some of them are about things he doesn't even remember. Dispatching a stray pack of wargs or giving a child coin for bread aren't things that seem heroic in his mind, but when Jaskier talks about them it makes people cheer. 

When he stumbles back into their room, Jaskier has pink cheeks and the slightest hint of sweat on his brow. Geralt can smell him from where he's lying in the bed. His nostrils flare slightly when he notices the hints of arousal in Jaskier's scent. 

"Miss me, darling?" Jaskier asks while he's pulling his shoes off. 

"Could hear you," Geralt replies. 

"Oh!" Jaskier's face brightens. "Please do give me your honest review. Three words." 

Geralt thinks about it for a moment. "You smell good," he finally says. 

Jaskier climbs into the bed next to him with only his trousers still on. "Not quite a review of my performance, but I'll take it. I was worried I might need to wash again." 

"Don't," Geralt grumbles. 

When Jaskier lays down, Geralt catches another wave of his scent, stronger this time. It rolls off his bare skin and surrounds Geralt completely. He realizes, with Jaskier close, that he's smelling a bit of his own scent still clinging to Jaskier from the bath. 

"You're sniffing me," Jaskier observes. 

Geralt pulls back, grunting softly rather than apologize. 

Jaskier tucks a stray bit of hair back behind Geralt's ear. "Well I didn't say you had to stop." 

With his newly granted permission, Geralt leans back in, trying to memorize all of Jaskier's scent. The hints of arousal are still there, stronger when he's so close. Geralt wonders which maiden in the bar managed to catch Jaskier's eye tonight and how exhausted he must be to have turned her down. 

"Just come here," Jaskier says, losing his patience. 

He wraps an arm around Geralt's shoulders and pulls him in close. Once Geralt has settled with his head resting on Jaskier's shoulder, Jaskier lets his fingers trail through Geralt's hair and over the fur of his ears. Geralt grips at the sheets so that he doesn't bruise Jaskier's flesh. He knows there are goosebumps down his arms and chest. When Jaskier's hand drops down his back to rub the base of his tail he isn't fast enough to swallow down the desperate whine that jumps from his throat. 

"I'd like to kiss you," Jaskier says when he's recovered. 

Geralt doesn't trust his voice, so he lifts his chin and hopes that Jaskier will take it for an answer. 

Jaskier has known Geralt long enough to know how to see the answers in his silence. He brings his free hand to cup Geralt's cheek and kisses from his temple across the bridge of his nose, and just barely over the edge of his mouth before finally letting their lips fully meet. Geralt's mouth drops open, panting into Jaskier. Geralt can feel the edges of Jaskier's lips turning up in a smile when his clever tongue finds its way into Geralt's mouth. The smell of Jaskier's arousal is so thick in the air that Geralt feels like he might drown in it. His own cock is rapidly hardening between his thighs. He tries to resist the urge to rut against Jaskier's leg, but Jaskier presses his thigh up between Geralt's legs and he can't help but surrender to it. A growl rips out of Geralt's chest when Jaskier pulls his mouth away. Both are panting. 

"Can I touch you?" Jaskier asks, his cheeks pink and his voice raw with want. 

Geralt blinks, confused. "You are." 

Jaskier smiles, pressing their foreheads together. "Give me just a moment." 

When Jaskier stands up from the bed, Geralt's skin burns with the loss. He turns his nose into the pillow where Jaskier's head had been, breathing deeply while he watches Jaskier rummage through his bag. He returns quickly, as promised, and kneels at the end of the bed, careful not to put his weight on Geralt's tail. 

"Gonna touch you, okay?" Jaskier asks again. 

Geralt nods impatiently. If he knew how he would beg Jaskier to just get on with it, but he doesn't so he lets out a rough whine and hopes that Jaskier understands. Jaskier's hands press into the inside of his thighs, nudging them apart. 

"Tell me if you don't like something, alright, love?" Jaskier purrs. 

He doesn't wait for an answer this time, just uncorks a bottle of what smells like oil and dips his fingers into it. Geralt watches intently as Jaskier reaches between his legs. He expects to feel long calloused fingers softened by oil wrap around his cock. He takes in a sharp breath to prepare himself for it. Instead, Jaskier's fingers press gently behind his balls to circle his hole. Geralt shudders and closes his eyes, not able to bear the onslaught of information coming into every one of his senses. Jaskier is slow, though, and gentle. When the first of his fingers finally slips inside of him, Geralt's cock is weeping onto his stomach. 

"That's it," Jaskier mumbles. "So good, Geralt." 

Geralt whines, low and desperate. Jaskier hushes him softly, petting down his thigh with the hand that isn't busy opening him up. He adds a second finger, savoring the way that Geralt's eyes crack open to watch. He knows when he's found Geralt's sweet spot by the way his quiet panting and whimpering turns to high, needy moans. Geralt tries to keep still, to trust Jaskier to know how he needs to be touched when he's practically feral with lust. When Jaskier touches that spot inside him, though, his hips start to rock on their own, humping desperately at the air. He doesn't notice the orgasm creeping up on him until his spine is already bowing up off the bed. He comes with a deep growl and his seed dribbles onto his stomach. Jaskier's fingers stroke him through it until he's twisting away from him, then they're gone. 

"Can you go once more for me, darling?" Jaskier asks softly. 

"Mhm," Geralt nods. His cock is still hard against his stomach and aching with how badly he wants Jaskier to just keep touching him and never stop. 

"Turn over for me?" Jaskier taps Geralt's knee when he asks. 

When Geralt turns over, his tail lifts of its own accord to move out of Jaskier's way while he settles between Geralt's legs. Jaskier runs a gentle hand down the length of it before lining his cock up with Geralt's hole. He presses in slowly, drawing out Geralt's feeling of being stretched to fit around him. Jaskier drapes himself forward over Geralt's back so that he can wrap a hand around Geralt's cock and leave open mouthed kisses on his shoulder. Geralt trembles on his knees at the feeling of having Jaskier's skin touching him everywhere at once. Once Jaskier starts to rock his hips, it isn't long before both are panting out desperate moans. 

Jaskier comes first, burying himself deep inside of Geralt and grinding his hips while his cock pulses and fills Geralt with his seed. He doesn't pull out, just keeps rocking his hips through the aftershocks while his hand twists around Geralt's cock. He's not expecting to feel the base of Geralt's cock swell under his hand. It's almost enough to make him draw away, but one of Geralt's hands quickly covers his own, guiding him to firmly grip the place where it's swelling. It pulses under his hand when Geralt starts to come again, shoving his face into the pillow to muffle his loud moans. 

Geralt's hand stays over Jaskier's on his cock long after Jaskier has softened and slipped out of him. They collapse together on their sides, holding onto the base of Geralt's cock while it occasionally jerks and drips more of his sticky seed over their hands. Jaskier kisses across Geralt's shoulders until he manages to catch his breath. 

"You're amazing, love." Jaskier whispers between his shoulder blades. "Truly breathtaking." 

Jaskier keeps talking to Geralt until the swelling starts to lessen and their hands fall away. He tells him how good and honorable and heroic he is along with how much he enjoys being allowed to touch him like this. Even after their hands are no longer touching Geralt's cock, Jaskier keeps their fingers linked. He curls his entire body around Geralt's back, leaving his own back exposed to the door. Geralt knows that his bard isn't going to be doing any protecting, but the feeling of having someone wrap themselves so tight around him and put their body between him and the world still makes him feel like something precious. 


End file.
